


Off To The Races

by Parrannnah



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Assassin Derek Hale, Criminal Derek Hale, Daddy Kink, F/M, Fluff, Inspired by Off To The Races, Slightly - Freeform, Sugar Daddy, in a weird way, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-08 04:00:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21229439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parrannnah/pseuds/Parrannnah
Summary: They weren’t the best people, the two of them. Lydia was self-aware enough to recognize this about herself, and she’d been under no illusions about Derek even in the early days, when things were bright and shiny and new.He was a lonely, wealthy man ten years her senior who didn’t care about her past; she was a failed screen siren with a checkered past and a taste for expensive things who didn’t care that the way he made his money was by doing the dirtiest of dirty work for those who needed to keep their hands clean of at least this one thing.They were perfect together.





	Off To The Races

**Author's Note:**

> This just forced itself upon me. Unbeta'd, though I'll probably come back and do that later. I just would like it to exist in the world since it was so insistent.
> 
> Inspired by Off to the Races by Lana Del Rey.
> 
> EDITED 9/2/2020 for errors/typos

They weren’t the best people, the two of them. Lydia was self-aware enough to recognize this about herself, and she’d been under no illusions about Derek even in the early days, when things were bright and shiny and new.

He was a lonely, wealthy man ten years her senior who didn’t care about her past; she was a failed screen siren with a checkered past and a taste for expensive things who didn’t care that the way he made his money was by doing the dirtiest of dirty work for those who needed to keep their hands clean of at least this one thing.

They were perfect together.

—

He bought her the house outside the city for their anniversary. Well, he bought them the house, technically, but then he turned her loose on it and she redesigned it from the ground up.

He drove her up the long driveway, not telling her why they were there, just getting out of the sleek black car he was favoring that week and walking around to help her out. “Do you like it, sweetheart?” he asked her, pulling her close as they looked at the house.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, taking in the lush lawns and sprawling wings, glass glimmering in the late afternoon light.

“It’s yours,” he said, holding the keys in front of her face. 

She gasped, hands flying to cover her mouth. “You bought me a house?”

“Anything for my baby,” he whispered in her ear as he stood behind her, thick arms wrapped around her slim waist, the dark hair and golden skin stark against her white dress. She loved the way they looked together, contrasting beauties as they were. She was copper and ivory, small and petite and delicate-looking, even if she’d done things to survive most of the people she interacted with nowadays could never imagine. He was tall and broad, muscles heavy on his frame, built for function rather than form. Dark hair all over, the hair on his head just starting to have threads of gray in it. His beard was still inky black, as was the hair on his chest and stomach, things she loved to run her long nails through, either scritching lightly at him while they reclined in bed or gripping it tightly while she rode him slowly, like they both liked, her creamy thighs bracketing the golden skin of his hips as she rose and fell above him, being a good girl for him.

She loved him.

She loved him when he came home to her covered in soot and rubble, soaked in blood, or smelling like the farms upstate he favored for clean-up purposes. She loved him as he lounged by the pool nursing his wounds, the scars that littered his body on full display as he watched her, gold chain glittering in the sun as a cigar hung from his lips. He loved watching her, which is why she’d put the pool in.

She climbed out of the deep end, the cool clear water glimmering behind her as she stood on the side, water streaming down her curves. 

“Take it off for me, baby,” he whispered, eyes dark where they watched her over his black sunglasses. “I wanna see you. Wanna see all of my pretty girl, that’s right.” 

“Anything for you, Daddy.”

She pulled slowly at the strings of her white bikini, red nails bright against her summer-tan skin as the wet fabric fell away.

“Beautiful, darling,” he breathed, curling one long finger at her. She sashayed her way to him, hips swinging and breasts swaying, the picture of innocence lost.

Not that she’d had much to start with when they met, but. They liked to pretend.

Lydia perched on his chaise, and he held the champagne flute to her lips, watching her as she drank deeply before he took it back, following suit.

“Do you like that, sweet girl?”

Lydia nodded, flicking her tongue out to chase the last of it from her full lips. “Delicious, Daddy.” She smiled, and leaned in to press a kiss to his mouth, tasting the champagne on his tongue as she kissed him breathless. She sat back, smiling mischievously as Derek looked dazed, and she congratulated herself on still being able to do that to him. “What kind was it?”

It took him a few moments but Derek managed to get his wits about him again. “Cristal, of course. Only the best for you, Lydia.”

She leaned forward again, hands trailing down his chest to the waistband of his shorts, intent on showing her appreciation some more.

—

He really meant it, when he said only the best. He first gave her a credit card when they were still living in his high-rise apartment in the most prestigious building. 

He didn’t know then she had never known when to stop, when it came to the finer things.

She’d bought more clothes and jewelry, shoes and booze than he thought possible, to the point where the credit card company called to make sure his card hadn’t been stolen.

But that was the least of the trouble she got in, really. He wasn’t always home after dark, and she was still insecure about her place in his life, worried and scared about just where his patience would end with her, and she decided she didn’t feel like sitting in the apartment alone and sad, so out she went, going from club to club, drinking more and spending more, and getting sloppier with every passing minute. The first fight was small, something easily dismissed through his connections, but they got worse, the high-brow socialites not appreciating her and very much disparaging her as some “bought piece of ass for that low-life mafia errand boy.” 

Derek didn’t care about the names, or the way people spoke of him, but Lydia did.

He chased her all over town on the worst nights, missing her by minutes until he managed to catch her, wasted and angry and violent, wrapping her in his arms as she looked up at him with her big eyes filled with tears, pleading “help me, please, I know I’m crazy, but please, please, save me.”

Anything for his baby.

—

When Lydia met Derek, she was working as a cocktail waitress. She had the look the establishment was going for, and even more importantly as far as the owner was concerned, she wasn’t opposed to providing guests with a little company while they sipped their expensive Scotch and Whiskey, smoking their cigars and talking business.

“Nothing untoward,” the owner promised, “just make them feel wanted.”

She could do that. She was an actress, after all. Or would have been, anyway, if things had worked out differently.

With Derek, though, she’d never had to act.

Those first few months, he’d always come home with her after he took her out, always on her off days, to make sure she knew that he wanted her, and not who she had to be at work. 

Her apartment was small and dark, barely more than a shoebox, and she had a roommate she never saw, but it was clean and homey and hers. He made her feel wanted, with the way he took her out and showed her off, asking her questions about her life and her wants and needs and seemed to love nothing more than fulfilling those needs, asking for very little in return, just her company, her time, her affection. 

The first time she took him to bed, he’d worshipped her, lips trailing all over her before his face pressed deep into the slick center of her, making her writhe and moan and call out his name. He’d taken his pleasure slow and easy, praising her every second of it as he whispered his desire for her in her ear, and when he fell apart she fell with him, pulled right along after by his admiration and devotion.

“I wanna be good to you, Lydia,” he whispered, tangled with her in the coarse sheets on her small bed, the city noises loud outside the cracked glass of her small window. “I wanna take care of you, however you want me to.” 

It had been the easiest thing in the world to let him.

—

They still went to the city on occasion, sometimes because they missed the hustle and bustle, but mostly because Derek missed showing Lydia off, and Lydia missed the way he looked at her when he took her out, knowing others around them would want her all while knowing that she belonged to him.

The first time they went after they moved to the big house, the glass walls of their bathroom proved that she’d been right to convert the old conservatory and the attached library to their master suite. She was getting ready at her vanity, makeup open all over the marble counter as she sat on the low velvet bench in her lingerie, red lace framing every curve she had, flashes of porcelain skin peeking through. She knew Derek was watching from the otherside of the glass walls, tumbler of cognac in his hand. She could feel the weight of his eyes on her, the way he took in the lithe lines of her body, the way the lace framed the heavy fullness of her breasts, the high round globes of her ass. She loved to show off for him, loved to know he wanted her, desired her. It was his greatest gift to her, someone who craved the attention but hated the insincerity that usually accompanied it. 

She slipped her red dress on before taking her hair down from its pinned curls, letting it cascade in waves down her back. She dabbed the lilac scent Derek loved on her wrists, her throat, in the deep valley of her cleavage before picking up the delicate gold chain of her necklace up from the jewelry tray. She turned to look at him over her shoulder, lips curved in a wicked smile as she caught his eye. “Help me?” she mouthed, holding the chain where he could see it. 

He strolled in, the sound of the door opening loud in the otherwise silent room. His shoes made a tap-tap-tap sound as he slowly came toward her, anticipation lighting her up as she faced forward once again.

Derek stepped up behind her, the heat of him through his suit easily felt through the thin silk of her dress, and he ghosted his hands down her arms, causing the hairs to rise up as a shiver rolled over her, breath loud and just this side of too fast.

Derek’s wickedly long fingers gently swung the heavy mass of her hair over one shoulder before he took the necklace from her, pressing a lingering kiss to the nape of her neck.

“You look stunning, baby girl,” he breathed, the words fanning across her skin. 

Lydia smiled.

—

When it all came crashing down, they stood side by side still, even as everyone around them fell apart. 

They’d known this was always a possibility.

Lydia, while never actively involved in Derek’s job, had started to make plans shortly after the move out of the city. She had been the smartest person in any room, once upon a time, and now that she didn't have to devout every single second to mere survival, she knew she could be again.

It wasn’t due to either of them that things went south. No, that honor belonged to a minor league gangster making a play for power who had trusted his mistress with too much, had told her to hold evidence for him. He was too stupid to realize she was an agent, had followed his dick and not his brain, and now the whole East Coast organization was compromised.

Luckily, Lydia had a plan for that.

They were fleeing, headed to Europe with new identities and lives already set up, leaving everything behind. Their saving grace was that Derek was rarely seen by anyone, and the amount of people who could identify him on sight could be counted on one hand. That, and Lydia’s deep and complex knowledge of the Swiss banking system.

So they left, in the dead of night, abandoning their beautiful house, all of their things that didn’t fit into one suitcase apiece. They were just like any other couple abroad, as they made their way to Montenegro, a beautiful country that bordered the Adriatic Sea and very conveniently had no extradition treaty with the U.S. 

Derek had business contacts there from over the years, and he found them a little villa nestled in the hillside near the sea. It would take them two months of slow travel across Europe, staying in hostels and campsites, living out of suitcases and duffle bags, but they would be together, and that’s all that mattered. 

They could handle anything that came their way, so long as they had each other.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/KatAtomic2/) I’m also still on [Tumblr!](https://kat-atomic.tumblr.com/) so come hang out!  



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